Let Me Borrow Your Heart
by hpfanfreak06
Summary: They stopped, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. He thought about the last time he did this, when this city was new and he had no idea what it would give him. Now he's got her and they're friends again. And he's okay with that.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Here it is! The first chapter of the sequel to "Let Go of the Rest"! (If you haven't, read that first.) The first draft was terrible so I scratched it and started over. I like this a lot more. Hope you all enjoy reading! Reviews are love! Title is taken from Justin Timberlake's "Not a Bad Thing." **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

He'd said "Okay."

Without second guessing or finding the words to take it back. He doesn't know what's going to happen after this. He's scared because, she just moved across the country. And whether this was for him or not, he feels like he owes her.

"Do you want to come in? We should probably talk inside, and you know, not the hallway."

Gesturing towards the couch, he sits down next to her.

He doesn't know why it feels awkward. Especially after his mother and the hospital and coming clean.

But then again, two months can make a difference.

"So, I guess you're wondering why I'm here."

"Kind of yeah."

"After you left, I thought about all the reasons why saying no was the right thing. With no "us", there was never a thought that I should follow you. We were only friends, if at all. And that was what I told myself for the first month. You were living your life here, and I was just…somewhere else. But then it hit me. California doesn't know me. It's clear on the other side of the country, far away from directors with grudges and no hope for any kind of comeback. So I quit my job at the coffee shop, packed my bags and prayed you would say yes."

"What if I hadn't?"

"Sit outside your door until you let me in? It was a gamble. But I think I knew you wouldn't say no."

He wouldn't have.

"So what now?"

"Now I start looking for employment and of course somewhere to live. And then, when I feel settled, start auditioning."

He remembers how terrified he was coming here and how lucky he was to run into Puck. There's no way he'll let her stay in a hotel or attempt to figure out this city by herself.

"Stay here."

"Are you sure? I can call a hotel. Stay there until I find an apartment."

"No, I mean, live here."

"Oh Finn I couldn't, this is your space and there's no possible way to afford the rent here."

"Don't be ridiculous, I've got a second bedroom that could really use some redecorating. As for rent, don't worry about it. We'll worry about that once you're settled."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

"Okay. I'll move in."

He couldn't help but wonder if he'd just made a terrible decision.

* * *

That first week they skirted around each other. Trying to avoid whatever it was they thought they shouldn't say. Only pleasant conversations, in the brief moments of morning when they saw each other.

It wasn't until that Friday when he came home from work that it all became different.

He found her bustling around the kitchen, singing to herself like he remembered so vividly.

"Hey Rach. Are you making dinner?"

"Oh hello Finn! You're home! Yes, I'm trying a new recipe I found on one of those food shows. It this pasta thing, and it has meat. I figure new life, why not? Also I baked your favorite."

Sure enough, there on his kitchen table, was a plate of sugar cookies.

"What's the occasion?"

"I found a job!"

"Really where?!"

"It's this local diner, which just so happens to be within walking distance. The best part is, we get to sing on the job! It's absolutely perfect!"

"That awesome! When do you start?"

"Bright and early Monday morning. One of the other waitresses also informed me that a lot of musical directors frequent the place. Apparently they scout for talent. I'll be working and auditioning at the same time!"

He couldn't help but feel relieved, she was excited. Something he hadn't seen in a long time.

They ate dinner that night at the kitchen table, napkins and silver ware set just right. Rachel had even purchased a bottle of wine.

It was nice.

* * *

The city was most alive on Saturday's. So he took her to this old theater than played black and white films and they ate cheesecake at midnight.

Sunday he showed her the bar him and Puck owned. It was really just a building, with boarded up doors and past flyers nailed to every available space. But it had been there's.

"So you and Noah owned this?"

"Yep, although more Puck than me. He needed a bar tender and I needed a job."

"Of all the things that have happened to us, you and Noah here, makes the most sense."

"I'm not sure about that. What about you and New York?"

"New York kind of failed me, or maybe the other way around. You and Noah were meant to find each other one last time after high school, have one last adventure. It's sort of poignant. What did happen to Noah anyway?"

"Oh he left, once we lost the bar and he met that girl. I think her name was Summer. Or Winter? Either way, he packed up and I stayed here. Haven't really heard from him since."

"I don't know if I've said it, but I'm so glad you found your dream. It really seems like working at the record company is your niche."

"Honestly I stepped into by accident. Started out at a record store until this exec heard me playing. Now I get to discover new acts and try to get them signed. It's rewarding. But sometimes I think I could be doing more. Like what Mr. Shue did for me, for us."

"Like teaching?"

"Yeah, that's it. Teaching. Still, I've got this job, it pays great, why should I give it up?"

"Sometimes our dreams are much bigger than any paycheck. If you want to mold young mines and inspire everyday, you should."

"Maybe."

The temperature was perfect as they walked towards the shore. Uncommon for California in December.

They stopped, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. He thought about the last time he did this, when this city was new and he had no idea what it would give him.

Now he's got her and they're friends again.

And he's okay with that.

**AN/2: So how was it? I like the idea of New York being out of the picture, for now. And if you're wondering about the timeline, LGOTR was set in October, so we will have a Christmas moment in this story. Stay tuned! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long. But the chapter is much longer than the previous. So I hope that makes up for the wait! It's the holdiay chapter, Christmas gallore. After this one the story will really take off and we'll find our two characters finding their way back to each other. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are love!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

He finds that living with someone you almost married isn't all that awkward.

When he first really started talking to Rachel, she scared him, with her intensity and persistence. Now, she's the person who knows him best and he's comfortable around her.

And yeah they're friends and that's part of it, but he doesn't think they're quite finished with "them" yet. So there's that hope that maybe they won't ever have to feel awkward.

Rachel wakes up before him most mornings, sometimes leaving him a plate of breakfast, always having coffee hot and ready. He tells her she doesn't have to go through the trouble, but she smiles and says, "I like doing nice things for you."

He likes being the one that she does things for.

* * *

They decide not to venture home for Thanksgiving, because flights aren't cheap and Christmas is just around the corner.

So Rachel makes this turkey, cranberry, sandwich and bakes a homemade pumpkin pie (topped with Cool Whip because she knows he likes it best). They sit on the couch and watch Thanksgiving themed episodes on television and don't bother with saying what they're thankful for.

She falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. And it takes all his effort to move her to her room. Because he won't admit that her head feels right, there, on his shoulder.

He allows himself to consider what being "them" now might mean. Yeah it might be everything they've always been, for a while, until something blows up and there's no hope anymore. So, he locks away the idea, because if he waits, let's them discover each other again, next time, they'll be more.

* * *

"Finn, what do you want for Christmas?"

"You know you don't have to get my anything, right?"

He's only half lying.

"There's no choice in this. I'm getting you a gift. Now, tell me what's on your list?"

"Honestly I haven't even thought about it. Just surprise me."

"Ok, fine, surprise it is."

He doesn't ask her what she wants, because he's already got it, tucked away in his closet.

* * *

They fly home three days before Christmas. He insisted on paying for her ticket, because even without saying it, he knew she couldn't afford it. Telling her it was her Christmas gift, was easier than he thought.

Kurt met them at the airport at his own insistence. Finn didn't miss the looks his step-brother gave him on the ride to Rachel's father's house.

He couldn't blame him really. Two exes living together and somehow seemingly not together? It was bound to raise the usual questions.

They dropped Rachel off, Finn helping her to the door, afraid to do anything that might give Kurt the impression that he was lying about the friends thing.

"So tell me everything!"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh come on, Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry are living together and you tell me nothing's happening?"

"Nothing's happening."

"You're just friends?"

"Just friends."

"Yeah, well, we'll see."

They drove in silence, but Finn's mind couldn't help but wonder.

* * *

Home during Christmas is his favorite.

This was his first back in years, claiming he was "caught up at work" or "their were no flights."

Sometimes he thinks it was the Lima of it all that kept him away. A town that held so much of him and gave nothing back. It was hard for him to admit though, that the place he held so much disdain for, was where he was happiest. Everything he's ever been good at was found there. But ten, twenty years, for the rest of his life, would he want to be there?

No.

Lima is there to remind him, but never to keep him.

When he steps out of the car, his eyes glance around the neighborhood. Lights strewn on houses and trees, their green cords evident the day light, looking nothing like the beauty they possess when nights falls.

Following Kurt into the house, he's greeted by the smell of dinner and what he swears is an apple pie.

It's more comforting than the last time he was here, he's thankful for that.

"Hey Dad, Carol, we're home!"

His mother comes rushing out of the kitchen, her apron covered in flour and looking nothing like someone who just survived brain cancer.

"Oh honey you're home!"

"Hey mom."

"I'm so glad you're here! Where's Rachel? I thought Kurt said she was coming home with you?"

"She's staying at her dad's, but she promised to come by for Christmas dinner."

"Well, okay, but you let her know she can come by anytime."

"I will mom, I will."

"Why don't you go wash up, dinner should be ready in soon."

Dragging his duffle bag up the stairs he went directly to his old room. When the door opened he was met with the smell of vanilla. As he looked around, he noticed the trophies were gone and even a new comforter on the bed, which had been replaced with a much larger king sized one. He couldn't help but believe Kurt had something to do with this.

The walls were different too, pictures hanging in black frames, mostly from high school. Scanning through them, noticed a portrait from football, some of the Glee club and other's of family, most importantly the one of that old blue chair, him in his father's lap.

It wasn't until he sat down on the bed that he saw one he'd almost forgotten about. At the courthouse, him in a tux, she in that wedding dress that was just so her, a moment of perfect happiness. Before they got the call and everything stopped.

This evidence that he loved her once, will stand out among the rest as his favorite. Whether or not they repeat it.

* * *

When Christmas day arrives he's suddenly nervous. The gift he got her is now safely in his side table drawer. He keeps a constant check on it, because Kurt has a habit of snooping and if he finds this…well he'll start asking questions again.

He tries to help is mother in the kitchen, but when he almost burns the potatoes he's kicked out.

Rachel arrives around four, a plate of Christmas sugar cookies in her hands and a bag full of gifts.

"Rachel dear, you didn't have to bring anything! Especially the gifts!"

"I couldn't help myself, Christmas shopping is so much more fun than Hanukah shopping. And the wrapping paper choices! I think I went a little crazy."

"You should see my Christmas closet. I think I've still got paper from when Finn was born. Why don't you lay those under the tree, we'll open them after dinner."

"Here, Rach, I'll help you."

He followed her into the living room, the tree covered in white lights and various ornaments from classroom projects. Even after a month, the needles still smelled of pine and something uniquely Christmas.

"Thank you for inviting me for dinner. Your mother's house on Christmas is one of my absolute favorite things."

"You know mom would have dragged you over here. I think she feels out numbered. And plus, you're practically family. Would have been wrong to not have you here."

* * *

"Carol, this dinner was delicious! You have to give me your recipe for these sweet potatoes."

"Well thank you, it was my grandma's recipe."

His mother was his favorite cook, always filling the table with every kind of potato and the best turkey he'd ever had.

"Should we open presents now?"

Kurt was practically bouncing in his chair. Something about the holiday turned his step-brother into an excited seven year old.

"You know? Why not? We'll just save the dishes for later!"

They sat in the living room, Burt by the tree acting as Santa, handing out gifts to everyone.

Kurt was thrilled with the framed Wicked poster Rachel had given him and a new cologne from Finn. While Burt couldn't contain his excitement over season football tickets.

His mother was almost brought to tears over a scrapbook of pictures and souvenirs. It had been Rachel's idea and had taken almost a month to complete. She'd never had time to sort through her hundreds of photographs in her closet during his childhood, and with the cancer, she needed something good to remember.

When it came time to swap gifts with Rachel, he almost considered lying, saying he forgot it in California. But then he opened the obviously expensive brown leather jacket and decided to ignore his nerves.

The package was small, wrapped in paper with the music to Silent Night printed on it, he watched as she studied it, probably trying to find the right place to open it.

After carefully removing the paper, she opened the small black velvet box.

"Oh Finn."

Lying in the box, was a gold bracelet, with dozens of tiny gold stars dangling around the chain. He'd found it inside of a small jewelry store, while they were shopping, and discretely purchased it without Rachel knowing.

"I thought it would match the necklace I gave you back in high school. And with your new life in California, it would remind you every day, how bright you are."

"It's perfect. Completely perfect. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Rach."

His eyes left hers and glanced to the window. Snow had started to fall.

"Look it's snowing."

"Come on, let's go!"

They both threw there coats on, heading out into the winter air.

The snow fell fast and soft, landing on the grass and in their hair. Finn watched as Rachel danced around the yard, catching snowflakes in her mitten covered hands. He joined her, spinning in circles until they both fell to the ground, letting snow melt on their cheeks.

"I don't think I could live a life without snow."

"Me neither. Warm climates are overrated."

They lay there, backs pressed to the cold ground, watching the snow cover the lights, like the stars had come from the Heavens just so the world could see them.

He reached for her hand, telling her he was there. And as he glanced towards her, he couldn't help but think she'd never looked more beautiful.

She really did shine bright.

**AN/2: Romance perhaps? You'll just have to see. Stay tuned! (If I really put forth the effort, I'll have another chapter up tomorrow). **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I'm sorry I didn't get this out sooner! Yet again I hate what's been written and scratch everything. The direction the chapter was going just didn't work. I like this much better. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reviewing! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

The California breeze whipped through his hair as he drove.

Going down the coast, seeing the ocean fly by, made him feel free.

All he could hear was the wind, and that was enough.

Nothing had really happened since Christmas in Lima. They went on living together as they had before.

But to say nothing had changed, wasn't completely the truth.

Friday nights when they sit on the couch, watching some film from their hundred plus collection, he swears she looks at him, like she used too.

And she still does little things for him. Like bringing him lunch on her days off.

It's all he's got right now. But he'll wait. It's okay to wait.

* * *

He starts taking her to band scouting's, in these little bars and clubs in LA, where the music fills every corner.

They sit at tables near the front, he tries to look official and imposing, while she giggles into her Vodka Cranberry. It almost feels like a date, until he remembers this is work, and even then he can't help but enjoy being with her.

"Are you trying to scare them?"

"No, I'm just trying to get them try a little harder. This is their shot and if they want it, they'll fight for it."

They're inside Domo's Bar surrounded by at least a hundred and fifty people, listening to some band called Dog Whistle.

"So what do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"They suck don't they?"

"Not completely. Yes, the lead vocalist is straining to hit a few high notes, and the drummer is off a bit, but they've got passion."

"Finn, you know as well as I do, that passion will only get you into bars like this, not sold out shows at the Staple Center. You need the talent to back it up."

"Well, sorry Dog Whistle. It's just not your night."

* * *

They walk home instead of paying for a cab. The bar is only about a mile from their apartment anyway.

"So, how's life at the diner? I've been meaning to come by."

"Exactly what you would expect from a diner called _Song and Slurp_. A song every hour, plus requests. It can get a little repetitive, but I get to practice my craft, so I guess it's worth it."

"As long as you're happy."

"I am. Did I tell you though, I have audition on Tuesday!"

"Really, that's great!"

"Yeah it's for this small community theater, a production of my claim to fame in high school, West Side Story!"

"Save me tickets for opening night."

"How do you know I'll get it? Some other girl might be better than me."

"No one is better than you. And if they don't cast you as Maria, they're insane."

"Really though, what if they don't?"

"Never give up. "Because you're Rachel Berry. And that means you're not a quitter."

He means it. She's never backed down from anything. Not the hate and slushies in high school or pressure to prove her talent is worth it.

"Okay, I won't."

He swears she watches him the whole way home.

* * *

Watching the clock, he wonders if she's out yet. It's Tuesday and her audition was at 2:30 and it's 3:00, so she has to be done right?

As if on cue his phone beeps.

-All done! Went well, they said I should know by five! Keep your fingers crossed.-

He hopes she gets this because she needs it. Needs the spotlight like it needs her.

* * *

He gets home at 5:15 and finds her sitting at the kitchen table staring at her phone.

"I'm assuming you haven't heard yet?"

"No and I don't know what that means. Did I get? Did I not get it? They would have to at least cast me in the chorus."

"I wouldn't worry about it, they probably call everyone who didn't get it first."

"Or they're going to let me down gently-"

Her phone starts ringing, vibrating on the table.

"Are you going to answer it?"

"What if-"

"Just answer it!"

"Hello. Yes this is she. Okay, thank you very much."

"Well?"

"I got it!"

"You got it!?"

"I got it!"

He's so excited, he pulls out a bottle of champagne and they spend the night sitting on the couch drinking and eating pizza.

* * *

Rehearsals are three times a week, in the evenings after Rachel finishes at the diner.

She comes home looking exhausted and he barely see's her anymore, but she hasn't appeared this happy since the moment she came to California. So he doesn't let it bother him.

Until she starts missing their movie nights and he's eating left over Chinese takeout, that just doesn't taste as good without her.

It's not like she's his only friend. Some of the guys at work invite him to bars, where they're scouting for their own talent, and when the work parts done, they all hang in the back and play pool.

But even then he wishes she was there. She'd kick all their asses at pool.

* * *

After a month of non-stop rehearsals he learns from the calendar on the fridge, that opening night is only a week away. A ticket is stuck by a magnet next to "February."

He might actually be excited now. It will be worth not seeing her, just to watch her in her element. Still, he secretly wishes she had been the one to deliver it.

They give everyone the day off before opening night. And he's hoping they can have dinner at their apartment and watch bad tv. He sends her a text and she says she wouldn't miss it.

He waits two hours and forty-seven minutes, staring at the cold meal. The one he had to call his mom about to make sure he didn't screw it up.

When he can't stare anymore he puts it all away and goes to bed.

Sometime in the late hours of the night, the door slams.

Startled awake he throws off the covers ready to face whatever the hell is out there.

Giggling, laughing.

He stops short.

One is definitely Rachel, the other is a man.

"Shhh! We have to be quiet, my roommate is sleeping!"

Stumbling. Right outside his door.

"I can't promise how quiet I'll be."

That's when he chooses to pretend what's happening isn't.

Settling his ear buds in and putting all his attention on the music flooding his ears. Drowning out the very thing he wishes wasn't real.

He's her roommate.

**AN/2: I know, a bit of a downer. But next will be opening night! So that's a little better. Right? Stay tuned! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This short chapter (promise the next one will be much longer!) came really quickly to me. I'm really proud of this one! Hope you enjoy! Planning to have the next one up by Tuesday. Thank you for reading! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

Sleep doesn't come that night. His mind, too busy playing reels in his head, of her and "him" and skin on skin.

He feels nauseous and sad and angry and mostly hurt. With questions burning his tongue and the answers causing his eyes to bleed with tears.

That hope that was there is gone and hiding in a darkened closet, afraid to bring itself back into the light.

The heart can only repair itself so many times before it's left cracked.

He only glances at her door that morning, before moving at a quickened pace out the door.

His office door stays closed, and he tells Janet his secretary to take note of calls. He doesn't want to be bothered today.

There are no scheduled meetings, just emails he hates sending. So he surfs the web. Finds teaching programs that seem worth it.

If she's going to move on, he will too.

* * *

Daisies. Her favorite.

He has one of the chorus girls leave them on her dressing room table.

And he'll watch her, because he _can't _refuse her voice.

It's an addiction he'll never quit.

The lights go down and the curtain opens.

Breathtaking. Starlit. Everything she's been and will always be.

He claps at the end, but he doesn't stick around to tell her so. Because there's some other guy bringing her roses and kissing her cheek.

So he goes home, drinks cheap beer from his fridge and tries to escape his dreams.

He never hears her come home.

* * *

There's a knocking repeating itself in his head. He tries to will it away, before he's awake enough to know it's his bedroom door.

Opening it she's there, smile and a newspaper.

"They wrote a story about me! Well, the play really. Isn't that amazing?"

He glares, furious that she could be this happy, when there's so much anger welling up inside him.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you happy about this? Finn?"

The door closes. He hopes his feelings are clear.

"But Finn, they think I'm good. In the paper. They like me."

* * *

Hiding in his room is easier that confronting something she doesn't seem to think happened.

Sometime around three that afternoon the knocking starts again.

"Finn? Are you in there? Please come out. I don't know what I did. Please…"

And then he hears her fall to the floor and the sound of tears.

He opens the door.

"Finn-"

"Look, I know you're choosing to pretend nothing happened the other night, probably to save my feelings. But I heard enough."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just your roommate, isn't that right? Wouldn't want to be too loud."

"That wasn't…what exactly do you think happened?"

"Oh come on Rachel, are you really going to deny what was going on in this hallway?"

"If you think for a moment that I did THAT. Then you really don't know me."

"I'm not sure I ever did."

"For your information, Brody and I had gone out that night for a few drinks with cast mates. I took him back here, because he was too drunk to drive. He made a move on me and I threw him out. End of story. NOTHING happened. Do you really believe I would think so little of myself? God Finn, I can't believe you."

"Rachel, I'm sorry, I heard-"

"I don't care what you heard, you should have talked to me instead of jumping to conclusions. I'll be out by the end of the week."

"What you're leaving?! Rachel you can't."

"Why because you "love me". Someone who loves me, would trust me. You clearly don't."

"But where are you going?"

"I'll stay with Jessica, maybe let her have a night or two in the spotlight. That will give me time to find an apartment."

"Please."

"Goodnight Finn."

He hates himself.

* * *

Jumping to conclusions is how he loses people. He doesn't know where he got it, maybe his dad.

Hereditary or not, it's definitely not an excuse for what he did to her.

Nor are whatever past high school lies that dented his trust in people. He should have kept listening, saved her from the creep.

They might be somewhere else now.

Instead she's all but gone, except her toothbrush, still sitting in the holder she swore they needed.

It makes him wonder if she'll ever come back for it.

* * *

He considers a grand romantic gesture. But they don't live in a romantic comedy, and he's not that person anymore.

So he forgets about it. Waiting on a miracle or some sign that tells him how fix this.

It scares him that it might never come.

* * *

She's been gone for a week, when he comes home from work. Hearing noises in her bedroom.

For one fleeting second he thinks it's her.

This is the sign.

When he turns the corner it's not her. Instead two men with _Carl's Moving _printed on the back of their t-shirts are taking apart her bed.

The last of her things.

He goes directly to his room, sitting on the bed, staring.

The smell of her perfume is in the air. The last bit of her.

She's leaving, gone.

He's afraid he just became her past.

**AN/2: I'm sorry, it's sad. Stay tuned! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: This chapter is far too late. I intended to have it written much sooner, but work got in the way. It's here now though! Hope you enjoy! Reviews are awesome! Also I have another story or two in the works. Depends on how quick I get this one done. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

Early morning light leaks through the blinds, creating a pattern of lines on his face.

He doesn't want to stop watching the cars fly down the streets. It's a distraction, one he hasn't moved from all night. An empty beer bottle dangling from his hand. Not bothering to get a new one.

Some song plays in his ears. A lullaby that keeps you awake.

She's been gone for a month. And he doesn't want to process it.

Hell he doesn't want to try.

The cars keep moving.

* * *

Back when he thought Rachel had moved on, he started looking at schools. He finally applied for a few, with glowing recommendations.

If all goes right, he'll start in the fall.

Mr. Hudson suddenly doesn't make him feel old.

* * *

Work moves steadily and he's found a few worthy bands. He's even making a little more. The passion isn't there though. And when his boss offers a step up, manage bands, make their careers. He says thanks but no thanks, and quits on the spot.

When he walks out of that building, box in his hands, he feels like that first day here.

Scared, but free.

His mother isn't happy with his decision.

"Honey, I love you, but you cannot just give up your career! You've worked so hard."

"I don't think this was supposed to be my career. But teaching…it makes sense. Helping some kid who doesn't know where he fits in the world, through music? That's where I want to be."

She doesn't argue after that, but he knows she's worried.

Being jobless won't pay for school. But he started adding to his savings account once he got the job at the record company and he's got one paycheck left. If he manages it all, he won't have to give her a reason to worry.

Still, he needs something, a back up, something related to this career he has finally chosen.

It finally hits him as he's lying in bed…drum lessons. He'd have to find a space, but it's a start.

* * *

He talks his old boss at the record store, into letting him rent out one of the practice rooms, every Tuesday and Thursday.

Flyers are taped to the store's window and pinned inside coffee shops. Bold writing on brightly colored paper. Even his musical history is summed at the bottom, along with his phone number.

He hopes being a former National Show Choir Champion looks good, and that someone calls.

So, he waits.

* * *

It's been a month and two weeks since the day she left, when he gets his first call. And then another. Two days later and he's booked solid.

He's feels like even though Rachel left and he quit his job, that maybe this is all worth it. People want to learn from him.

The excitement that's making him bounce on his heels, gives him this sudden desire to call her.

But he can't. Because they're not talking. And it kills him. It's his fault after all.

Her room is still there, waiting for her to come home.

* * *

The first letter comes on a Monday. Set inside a small envelope, which makes him more nervous than he would like to be.

He never _really _applied for colleges back when he was eighteen and didn't have a clue. The Actors Studio was a fever dream, one that he only chose to be with her.

This time, it's all for him, white envelopes with his name printed dead center mean more.

Running his finger along the inside of the envelope he pulls out the letter.

They want him. UCLA wants him to start in the fall.

He doesn't care what the others say, he's framing this one.

* * *

He's at the book store of all places, when he runs into her for the first time in months.

There's a stack of books in his arms, all about college and loans and how to manage time, but that doesn't stop him from heading in her direction.

She's in the fiction section, perusing through the new releases, biting her lip as she reads the summaries.

When he reaches her, she jumps slightly, before everything about her becomes calm. Except for her eyes.

"I got into UCLA, for teaching. They're offering me a few scholarships and want me to start in the fall. You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know."

He anticipates her voice and when it doesn't happen, he lugs his books in his arms, and walks away.

At least she knows.

* * *

Kurt calls on a Wednesday.

"I cannot believe you're going back to school."

"You too? Mom still isn't completely on board. Even though I have everything covered."

"Of course she's not. You gave up your career for this! It's going to take a lot of convincing. What does Rachel think about this?"

"Rachel?"

"Yes, your roommate slash whatever you two are right now."

"Wait? You don't know? We're not anything right now."

"What did you do!?"

"How do you know this is my fault? I'm not the one who left!"

"She left? And you didn't stop her? How long as she been gone?"

"Two months. I thought you two talked?"

"We do, but she never mentioned moving out. Although she did make a habit of changing the topic when I mentioned you…still you have to fix this. No matter what idiotic thing you said or did to push her away, just bring her back."

"It's not going to be easy. I'm not even sure where to start."

"Has winning back Rachel Berry ever been easy?"

No, but that never stopped him then. And it won't now.

* * *

He started at the theater. Praying that she was involved in some new production, her face plastered in the glass case outside.

Nothing.

Turning he considers where to start next, when some comes out of the theater doors. He recognizes the voice.

It's the guy who tried things with Rachel.

"Hey!"

"Can I help you?"

"Brody right?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm a friend of Rachel Berry's, would you happen to know where I can find her?"

"As far as I know she's still living with Jessica. It's about three blocks away."

"Thanks. Oh and one more thing."

"What?"

"This is for hitting on my roommate."

His fist collides with Brody's face, sending him onto the concrete.

It feels pretty good, hitting the guy that ruined everything.

Even if it wasn't really his fault.

The guy seems like an asshole anyway.

Parking outside a set of apartment buildings, he has a strange sense of déjà vu.

The last time he did this, his world collapsed in front of him and he turned away with looking back.

This time, in this moment, he facing it. Because this could be it.

There's no buzzer and the door is open. He skims through the mail box names until he finds the only Jessica in the building. Six floors up.

Each step echoes off the walls as he nears the sixth floor. He gets there quicker than he wanted to. And apartment 603 is staring him in the face.

Knocking he waits for the storm.

Nothing.

"Hi can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Rachel Berry? I was told she might be living here."

"She's actually my roommate and you are?"

"Finn Hudson."

"Oh, I should have known. I've been waiting for you to show up. Didn't think it would take you two months to get here. What did take you so long?"

"I'm an idiot."

"Good answer. Now, as for Rachel, she should be here. Rehearsals were just this morning."

Jessica opens the door, moving aside to let him in.

"Let me go find her. I'll be right back."

It's a home without a trace of Rachel in it. Only a few items he recognizes, but nothing that says she's become a part of every nook and cranny.

"She's in her room, I didn't tell her who was here. Thought it better for you to do that."

"Thanks. Wish me good luck."

Walking down the hall, he hears humming. It gives him a sense of calm, preparing for all the anger and hurt that's about to come out.

Her door is open, a strip of light coming into the unlit hallway.

He chances a small glance before making his presence known.

She's on her bed, lying on her stomach, legs crossed behind her, like she's sixteen again. A sheet of music in front of her, pencil in her mouth.

Taking his phone out, he snaps a picture.

The shutter gets her attention.

"Finn?"

"Hey Rach."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize. And I know it's two months too late. But just hear me out."

She nods her head silently.

"You were my high school sweetheart. Quinn was an opportunity, but you were something special. You were the first person outside of my mom, that ever gave me reason to look beyond Lima. Sending you on that train was never in my plans. Until I realized that you were willing to give up your dreams for me. And then I tried the army and when that failed, I was foolish enough to think you would be waiting. So I left the country and then found California. We ran into each other by chance and you were there for me. When you didn't need to be. I never thanked you for that. And I know I don't say it enough, but thank you. And I'm sorry. For misjudging you and letting you leave. Because I do know you. You're my person. Regardless of whether we're together or not, you will always be my person."

"Can I come home?"

It's not anything he expects her to say. But it's perfect.

"Always."

He's her home.

**AN/2: Was it too cheesy? Stay tuned!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Well, we've come to the end. I really adore this chapter. It might seem a bit like an epilogue, I hope it doesn't as I hate them (useless really). Thank you for reading, following, favorting, and reviewing! I have a one shot I'm working on, plus another story based off on of my drabbles! So look for those in the next few days! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

He's surrounded by a sea of black. Everything identical except for the colored tassels, hanging like ornaments.

Some important politician is speaking, reusing the same material as the person before him. Unoriginal and unmoving.

There is silence except for the occasional flap of a program or a restless child.

He would really just rather take it and go. These days are just for parents anyway. But it was a long four years. He survived and he's not sure how. All he knows is this should have happened years ago. Not when he's twenty-six.

Life allows you a whole bunch of mistakes, messes you never really clean up. He figures those years before she reappeared and gave him reason to be _something, _were his messy years.

Still, he's proud of himself.

* * *

Everyone's left and he's more relieved than he's been in a while. The fanfare is over, he can finally breathe and take it all in silently.

His cap lays on the kitchen table in a mess of plates and napkins reading "Congrats Grad!" He'll keep the tassels, maybe let Kurt find a frame and hang them with his Diploma.

Being a teacher now, it doesn't scare him. Teaching drum lessons was his first real lesson. He thinks maybe when he's settled and can find some time, he'll start up again. Someday.

A soft humming is coming from down the hall. Heading towards it, he finds her moving around the bedroom.

"Hey, you disappeared."

"I had to take these shoes off. Ten hours is far too long to wear heels. Is everyone gone?"

"Yeah, it's not easy getting my mom out the door."

"She's just proud of you. Just like I am."

"I wouldn't have been able to do any of it. Not without you."

"Oh, you would have found it eventually. I fully believe that."

"Maybe, but you pushed me. I'm where I am because of you. So, thank you."

"Well, you're welcome than. Has the mess out there disappeared yet?"

"Nope, I was hoping we could just ignore it."

"How about I start cleaning and you take a shower. We'll meet on the couch for a movie?"

"I won't object. See you in ten?"

"Okay. Oh and Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"I really am proud of you."

"I know."

* * *

He woke up to the brightness of the television. The movie forgotten when the day caught up with them both.

Rachel was sprawled out next to him, head on her arm. It had taken a lot of work to get here.

He moved out from behind her, covering her with a blanket, and stood in front of the window, staring out into the lights of the city.

UCLA had been a dream. The professors, classes and even the students made the experience everything he had wanted out of college.

Two years into his degree program, Rachel got the call.

She had been starring in an original production, written by one of her theater friends. A producer was in the audience one night. Thought she was too good for the California stage and wanted her to star in a revival of Funny Girl.

In New York.

It turns out, her reputation as an outstanding performer out shined everything that had happened with Greg.

He had a choice. Stay in California and maybe see her once a month. Or transfer, and follow her like he should have in the first place.

So he talked to his advisor and by luck he didn't think was possible, was able to transfer all of his credits to NYU.

Now they were in the city that once upon a time, tore them a part. He thought when they first drove over the Brooklyn Bridge that some sense of impending doom would settle in his stomach.

But then Rachel took his hand and said "We're here." He never looked back.

They're renting a two bedroom apartment right outside of the city, where the people move a little slower and the nights are quieter.

Sometimes he misses California. The sea air and the daily sunshine. But Rachel got everything she needed out of it.

New York asked for a second chance and he couldn't take that away from her.

People might assume he followed her out of love. And maybe a little bit of it was, but if they were ever going to be them again, he had to prove the seriousness of it all. Following her made sense.

They both knew there was never going to be anyone else. It was a mutual understanding, that when the right moment came, there would be no talks late into the night. They would flow together seamlessly.

He remembers the night it happened.

Rachel had just come home from another rehearsal. Hair in a perfect mess, talking away on her phone.

Watching the way she tossed her bag next to the door and how she laughed as her body collided with the couch. Head on a throw pillow, ankles crossed in front of her.

It hit him head on. He was tired of just watching her.

Once he heard her "Goodbye" he walked over to the couch, and like out of those romantic comedies he swore they weren't, he kissed her.

Just silently kissed her.

Then, headed back to his room, where he would attempt to finish whatever homework he'd started.

Without explanation, they became _them. _

He hears her stir behind him.

"Finn? Did I miss the movie?"

"Hey you. No, I fell asleep too, just woke up actually."

"Were you thinking? I can always tell when you're thinking."

"How?"

"When you stare out a window, not looking at anything in particular. Like the answers are far off somewhere else."

"Maybe I just like a good view."

A tired laugh escapes her, before she just stops and smiles at him.

"What?"

"I love you, you know."

"I love you too."

He takes her hand pulling her into the bedroom.

Moonlight fills the space, illuminating everything it touches.

They climb into the sheets, his arms around her.

And when he thinks she's asleep, he whispers

"Marry Me."

There's no response and he's relieved because he has plans.

He pulls her a little closer, breathing in her scent.

"Yes."

He's hers.


End file.
